Charming Faith
by Lancer47
Summary: Faith visits Charming, will the Sons of Anarchy be the same afterward?
1. Chapter 1

**Charming Faith**

by

LancerFourSeven

aka Lancer47

aka STFarnham

_Summary: Faith Lehane visits Charming and _

_the Sons of Anarchy will never be the same._

_Rating: FR15 for language, violence, and sexual innuendo._

_Disclaimer: I'm playing on BtVS & Sons of Anarchy turf for fun, but not for profit._

**Cast of Characters:**

_Sons of Anarchy_

Characters:

Actor:

Description:

Clarence 'Clay' Morrow, (Ron Perlman); President of the Sons of Anarchy, Step-father to Jax, One of the Original Nine Members of SoA

Gemma Teller-Morrow, (Katey Sagal); Clay's wife and Jax's Mother

Jackson 'Jax' Teller, (Charlie Hunnam), Vice-President

Alex 'Tig' Trager, (Kim Coates); Sergeant at Arms

Robert 'Bobby' Munson, (Mark Boone Junior); Biker

Harry 'Opie' Winston, (Ryan Hurst); Biker

Jean Carlos 'Juice' Ortiz, (Theo Rossi); Biker

Dr. Tara Knowles, (Maggie Siff); Jax's Old-Lady

Piermont 'Piney' Winston, (William Lucking); One of the Original Nine SoA members, Now semi-retired.

Chief Wayne Unser, (Dayton Callie); Chief of the Charming Police Dept.

Kip 'Half-Sack' Epps, (Johnny Lewis); The Prospect

_Buffy the Vampire Slayer_

Faith Lehane, (Eliza Dushku); Vampire Slayer-at-Large

_**Part One**_

As Faith drove past the '**Welcome to Charming**' sign, she was pretty sure her Harley-Davidson Fat Boy would hold together a few more miles, it sounded so rough she was worried about the head cracking completely in half and throwing shrapnel through her legs, she was going easy on the throttle and coasting whenever possible. So a few miles later when she spotted the Teller-Morrow Garage that had been recommended to her she breathed a sigh of relief and drove past the gate, past the sign that said '**Sons of Anarchy**', and into the first open bay. When she turned off her machine, the sudden silence hit her like baseball bat, it always did after a long ride, it surprised her every time.

A guy with near shoulder length blond hair walked up to her as she put her helmet down and shook out her wild mane.

"Oh hey, you're a chick."

"No shit? And here I thought I had pair a balls between my legs."

"God I hope not babe, that would be... Well, never mind. Now that's a mighty fine bike you got there, but what the fuck did you do to her?"

Faith sighed, "Well, she _was_ a fine bike and I hope she will be again. Some asshole in a truck with bad tires managed to blast a hole in the fuckin' head a few hundred miles back, had to repair it with a tin can, baling wire and Miracle radiator stop-leak. I don't think the fucker would've lasted much longer." She swung her leg off the saddle and walked around, stretching her arms and legs.

Jax kneeled down to inspect the engine and recoiled in shock as he checked out Faith's crudely contrived repair. "Sweet Jesus! I don't think I ever seen _that_ done before. How the hell did you even get it to run?"

"It wasn't easy, but, when you're stuck in the middle of fuck-all nowheres you do what you gotta do to get back on the road before starving to death. So how soon can you get me a new head, and while we're about it, rebuild the whole fucking machine back to spec. I put better'n sixty thousand miles on her in eight months, very rough miles mostly, so it's time take it apart and put it back together, the whole machine needs work."

"So what else is wrong?" Jax eyeballed the bike, amazed it could still run.

"Besides the hole, the clutch is cranky, there's some kinda intermittent short in the electrical system that makes the headlight go black for a few seconds after hittin' potholes, second gear is just plain fucked, she's losin' oil like a BP platform, the front shocks aren't doin' much of anything anymore, I ain't positive but the front wheel might be bent a little, it ain't exactly accurate to call her a _soft_-tail anymore, she needs new tires and I think I got a bad tank of gas back in Nevada, but other than that she's perfect!"

The gathering bikers laughed. "That's a helluva way to treat a Harley, darlin'. If you gotta do that to a bike why not do it to rice-grinder?"

"Fuck no, you treat a cheap bike like this an it'll fucking stop runnin', leavin' ya stuck in the middle of Death Valley. No, I'll stick to Harley, she may be limpin' some, but if you went where I took her you'd be limpin' some too. And after all that, she got me back to civilization, kept me alive no matter how rough the goin' got."

There were murmurs of agreement at that assessment.

"So how'd ya put the hole in the head, Sweetcheeks?" asked Tig.

"First of all, the next one of you calls me 'Sweetcheeks' is gonna lose his right testicle..."

The youngest biker, with a patch on his cut that said 'Prospect' swaggered up to her and said, "Then I'm safe, I don't got one on the right! So, Sweet..."

Faith interrupted him, "If you finish that word that I'll lop off half of the one ya got left." A butterfly knife appeared in her hand, she twirled it around expertly, the light glittered off the blade. It disappeared a few seconds later.

He started sweating and faded back behind Jax. Several of the bikers laughed, but it was forced laughter as they all took a step back and several unconsciously clinched their legs. "Don't worry 'bout 'Half-Sack'," said Jax, "he's okay."

"Sure, I'm runnin' low on sleep so I'm a little cranky. About the hole, see I was cruising down this dirt road in Death Valley, cruisin' mostly at ninety, but on a few really smooth sections getting up to a hunderd 'n twenty from time to time..."

"On a _dirt_ road?"

She got some unbelieving looks but stared back unblinking. "Yeah, it was dry, flat, and on the stretches that were straight as a gunbarrel I opened her up. It'd been graded a week or so earlier and didn't have many potholes; just some washboarding made the ride a little squirrelly from time to time. So anyway, there was this fuckin' truck coming the other way. It was an ancient fucker, but it was comin' on like a locomotive, fast, big, heavy, not something ya wanna fuck with on a bike. There was plenty of room, but just as I was about to clear the rear end of the trailer one of the goddamn fucking rear tires came apart. I guess it was one of those old split-rim wheels that got a leak and couldn't hold together anymore or some shit, anyway bits of rubber and metal bits flew around and over me – I hugged the tank and tried to hang over the side away from the truck but at speed that's a little dicey, anyhow most of the flying crap missed me and most of it that hit the bike bounced off, except for a small but sharp piece of the rim that speared right into the fucking head. You'd a thought I drove into a sheet metal shop, all the noise the engine started makin'. Getting' her stopped from that speed was... Well, I ended up layin' her down but luckily I managed to lose most of my speed by then. But it was a close thing, really close." She examined her headgear and added, "Fucked up my helmet, too."

"Did the truck stop?"

"Fuck no, I don't think the driver even noticed the trailer fishtailin' behind him."

"Figures."

"So there I was, a good eighty miles from the nearest phone, no lines on my cell, and not another car, truck, nothin', no houses, no shacks, absolutely nothin' in sight except goddamn vultures circling in the distance. So, I sat down, ate a can of beans and fixed the hole as best I could with the can and whatever else I had at hand. Luckily it was small, but as y'all know, any hole in the engine at all an' she just won't run."

Tig, Juice, Half-Sack, Opie, Bobbie and even Gemma all took turns looking at the _ad-hoc_ repair of the hole in the Fat-Boy's head and all shook their heads sadly.

"So how long's it gonna take?" asked Faith.

"Hmmm, a couple of weeks, maybe three or four, depending on how long it takes to get the parts. Shouldn't be longer 'n that, less you're in a hurry, but that'll cost ya. 'Course, this much work's gonna cost ya anyway, engine parts ain't cheap. I'll get you a written estimate tomorrow.

"So where you been that put that kinda miles on it? If you don't mind my askin'."

"I don't mind, I drove to Alaska, then all the way down to Tierra del Fuego and back, with plenty of side trips."

Juice said, "Holy shit! North Pole to South Pole? That's a hell of a trip."

"Not quite all the way to the poles, but near as I could get. The trip back was actually the hard part as it turned out. Ran into a couple of fucking drug gangs, had to run and fight my way through."

"I guess you made it."

"Yeah, it was kinda exciting, though maybe more than I expected. I won't mind sittin' around on my ass and drinkin' beer for a few weeks while you guys fix my Fat Boy. Uh, you do know how to work on Fat Boys, right? I mean all I see around here is nothing but Dyna-Glides, so..."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jax, "as long as it's a Harley we can fix it just fucking fine."

"Okay, any place to stay around here? I'm about beat."

"Yeah," said Juice, Opie, Jax, Tig, Bobbie, all simultaneously.

Bobbie, leering at Faith, said, "I'll take care of ya, you can stay with me, no worries!"

"Oh yeah, you betcha," said Gemma, "all of you get the fuck back to work! I'll take care of Faith, keep her out of _your_ clutches."

Faith smiled. "Thanks, I can take care of myself, but I ain't really in the mood to fight off grabby hands right now, so yeah."

Gemma and Faith walked towards Gemma's Caddy. "So what kinda place you looking for hun?"

"Marriott?"

"Sure, we got one of those, a bit outside of town, over towards Lodi. Closer in we got the Regency Inn, don't look as nice on the outside, but it's a good place, even has room service."

"Okay, you sold me. If I don't find a somewhere to eat and crash soon I'm gonna face-plant right where I'm standing."

Jax said, "Hey, we're having a party tonight, ya wanna stick around for barbecue and beer? Gemma can give you a ride later, she won't stay all night and you probably shouldn't, what with you bein' a customer and all."

"Barbecue and beer, sounds good. Maybe I can sack out on a couch till then?"

"Sure, use my room over in the club." At Faith's skeptical look, he added, "don't worry, there's a lock on the door."

* * *

><p>Later, the party was still going strong when Gemma asked Faith if she wanted to take off. "Yeah," she answered, "this is fun an all, but I'm wiped. Let's go."<p>

They left in Gemma's Cadillac, Faith leaned against the door and instantly fell asleep.

Faith opened one eye but didn't stir otherwise when they pulled up to a stoplight and a girl in the car behind rushed out in panic yelling for help with her kid. Gemma got out and Faith turned to see what was happening. When she saw the girl cold-cock Gemma with a blackjack, Faith opened the door and nearly flew around the back of the car. The girl looked up at her, surprise writ large, Faith stared back like a snake watching a mouse. As she started to punch out the girl, a gunshot rang out from behind her and a bullet passed through Faith's side from back to front. On top of more than twenty straight hours of driving and only an hour of sleep plus four beers, two pounds of barbequed pork, a large plate of beans, and a about a 3/8" diameter through and through hole, Faith couldn't help but pass out.

* * *

><p>She woke up when she felt someone pulling off her leather trousers. "What the fuck?" she exclaimed. She looked around and saw she was in a disused warehouse. Gemma was chained up to a fence with two guys ripping her pants off and getting ready to rape her and one guy on Faith, looking a little surprised around the eyes at Faith coming to.<p>

"Hey there you fucking little whore, pass back out, it'll be easier for you."

Gemma saw Faith groggily waking up. She was incredibly sad that that this innocent girl, a customer no less, had to go through what she was going through. Gemma shouted, "Hey assholes, do you know who the fuck I am and what's gonna happen to you when this gets out?"

Faith heard her, then heard one of the men say, "You tell Clay this is a message: he stops selling guns to colored, or else we do worse next time!"

Faith had enough of this, she locked the fingers of her left hand and punched her attacker in his neck, right under his mask. She didn't hold back much, the guy made a low gurgling noise and was close to dead a couple of seconds later and definitely out for the count. She staggered to her feet, and just barely was able to hold on as she stepped towards Gemma, who hid her astonishment when she saw Faith nearly kill a guy with one punch, was even more amazed when Faith got up and staggered towards her, apparently with the intention of taking on the other two attackers. They hadn't noticed Faith yet, so Gemma took the moment to kick one of them herself to distract them a little longer, but the other heard Faith shuffling and turned around to see this apparition of death a few steps away. Even bootless, Faith kicked him between the legs so hard he lifted up several feet. He came down on the cement floor, hard, head first, out cold. The other turned, surprised and dismayed at Faith taking out his companions, and pulled a knife, Faith's right hand flashed out so fast he wasn't even aware of it until she broke his arm above the wrist and the knife dropped to floor. Faith's fists slammed into the guys chest, shoulder and thigh, the crack of multiple breaking bones loud in the warehouse, until he too passed out.

"You all right, Gemma?" Faith gasped out, "can you call someone?" She fell to the floor, unconscious.

"Holy shit!" Gemma said softly, "if I hadn't seen it I wouldn't have believed it."

Gemma starting cursing out loud as she struggled to get to her phone. It was in her coat pocket, but her hands were tied above her head. "After Faith's efforts, can I do less?" she said to the empty space as she inched her coat upwards with her fingertips until she could finally reach the phone. She hit '1'.

"Hiya darlin', how ya doin'? Ya ready for some down and dirty lovin'?" said Clay drunkenly into his phone.

"Help me!" shouted Gemma at the phone above her head, she wasn't able to keep hold of it, it fell to floor. Didn't break though, she could hear Clay shouting incoherently. She sincerely hoped he wasn't too drunk to find her.

* * *

><p>About thirty minutes later Gemma heard the rumble of a half-dozen Harleys from about a block away. <em>About damn time<em>, she thought, glaring at one of the men who was moaning and about to wake up.

"GEMMA!" she heard Clay shouting.

"IN HERE!" she shouted back.

Clay and Jax appeared at the door.

"What the fuck happened here!" said Clay, Jax hastily averting his gaze from his mother who was naked from the waist down, with just her long coat waving around her legs, luckily the light was poor. Then he noticed Faith lying bleeding on the floor, her pants off, but still wearing underwear, apparently she'd been shot. He couldn't help but notice she was wearing black panties. Everything else she had on was black, so that wasn't exactly a surprise. And three masked guys lying on the floor that appeared mostly dead; now how did that happen?

"IN HERE TARA!" he shouted over his shoulder. "BRING YOUR BAG!"

Clay rushed to Gemma and was making a mess of trying to untie her.

"Dammit Clay! Belt my fucking coat closed before the others get here!"

"Oh, sorry." He was contrite as he fumbled in his haste to get her coat tied shut.

Tara and Bobbie arrived. Tara rushed over to Faith with her medical bag and started to administer first aid. She looked at Jax and said, "We've gotta get her to the hospital, call 9-1-1, stat!"

"Yeah? And cops for these soon-to-be-dead men?"

Faith came to, surprising the hell out of Tara. "No hospital," Faith grunted, "no hospital. The bullet passed clean through me and I heal fast, so just throw some antibiotics in there and stitch me the fuck up."

Tara shook her head, with this crew she wasn't at all surprised. "Okay, but it may be your funeral."

"Don't worry honey, I'll be alright, you'll see. Anyone got any water?"

* * *

><p>Later, back at the clubhouse, the party having been long over, Jax, Clay, Tara and Gemma sat at the carved redwood table, drinking water. Gemma had explained exactly what happened.<p>

Jax said, "You don't have to worry about any of those assholes, they won't be bothering you or anyone else, ever again."

"I hope you found out who they work for so we can find that girl."

"Yeah, it was Weston and two of his asshole buddies who work for Zobelle. The girl was probably Zobelle's daughter but we don't know where she is."

"White racists? What the fuck? Why are they after us? Why would they care about us selling guns to Laroy?"

"Maybe armed black men worries 'em some."

"They'd better be more worried about armed and angry white men!"

"Could they be connected to those idiot survivalists we blew up a couple months ago?"

"I doubt it."

Jax said, "Weston talked before..." he glanced a Gemma and decided he didn't want to admit to murder right then, "well, he said they were cleaning out Charming."

"Gotta be more to it than that," said Clay.

"Yeah, but if there is, the cannon fodder don't know it."

"It don't matter nohow, Zobelle is a dead man, he just ain't aware of it yet," said Clay.

The other agreed, mostly. Jax said, "Let's be smart about this, before we hit 'em, let's get as much intel as we can."

"Fuck that!" said Clay, "I say hit 'em fast and hard!"

"Let's take a couple days, dammit!" said Jax, "let's make sure we aren't walking into a trap!"

"They're gonna be three short now, that oughtta help."

Jax said, "Hmmm, won't hurt, that's for sure. But we need to find out what Darby's doin' involved with Kobelle."

Gemma asked, "What about Faith? She got shot and still saved my life as well as..."

"We owe her," said Clay, "the whole club owes her big-time."

Jax said, "And we won't forget it, neither."

"That's assuming she survives getting shot," said Tara, ever the optimist.

"Faith is one tough babe," said Gemma, "you should've seen her, staggering towards these two guys who were rippin' my clothes off, she was dripping blood from front and back both, looking like death. But she was still able to kick and punch so fast and hard it was like watching some kind of pile-driver. I was pretty much blown away."

Tara said, "I'll go sit by her, make sure she's okay."

* * *

><p>Faith's wound, or former wound as it was now, mystified Tara. "Ms. Lehane, it's only been forty-eight hours since you were shot! The wound is nearly healed over, there's hardly a scar in sight! The stitches are more obvious than the bullet hole! This is phenomenal! I can't begin to explain this, can you?" She pressed gently against the previously wounded area. She carefully starting pulling the stitches out. "Does this hurt? I'd have used dissolving sutures if I'd known this was going to happen."<p>

"No Doc, I told you, I'm fine, I heal fast, I'm some kinda idiot savant of healing, I can't explain it. Hey, are getting' your jollies stroking my skin? If so, you owe me."

"Oh good grief, Faith, I'm your doctor, quit reading into it more than that."

"Just fuckin' with ya, doc. Keep going, get those things outta me, it takes a lot more pain than that to slow me down, but the itchin' is surely distractin'."

Tara bent over Faith's back and removed the rest of her stitches. Then she had her turn over and removed stitches from the front. "There, that's the last."

"Thanks, I think I need a beer, and a couple of dinners."

"A couple?"

"Yeah, I have a high 'metabolic rate', if that's the right expression, I eat a lot, and I've been sleepin' most of two days now, I'm ready to fill up and maybe ride one of your bikers."

Tara coughed, "Just as long as it ain't Jax or Clay."

"Don't worry, I'm sure one of the others will volunteer."

Tara laughed delightedly.

**End Part I**

A/N:

(1) It may be awhile before Part II is ready, but I've got some ideas struggling to get free so there will be more to come, after all, Faith with the Sons of Anarchy is abundant with possibilities, it is difficult to narrow the focus enough to find a good plot.

(2) Your author cannot personally attest to any one brand of motorcycle being superior to any other brand, but I _am_ certain that close to one hundred percent of Harley-Davidson owners are convinced that H-D is far superior to all others combined.


	2. Chapter 2

Charming Faith

by

LancerFourSeven

aka Lancer47

aka STFarnham

_Summary: Faith Lehane visits Charming and _

_the Sons of Anarchy will never be the same._

_Rating: FR15 for language, violence, and sexual innuendo._

_See Chapter 1 for Cast of Characters & Disclaimer_

* * *

><p><strong>Part Two<strong>

"Hey Faith, glad you're here," said Jax, putting down a ratchet wrench and wiping his hands on a red shop rag. He walked over and said quietly, "You wanna ride with us today? I mean, if you're up to it. We're gonna close the chapter on that thing you had with Gemma three days ago, it might be a little, uh, brutal so if you don't want to that's okay..."

"Yeah, I'll come along. But what am I gonna ride?" she asked, looking at her bike which didn't even possess an engine, nor tires nor brakes and not much of anything else besides a frame and the wiring harness.

"We've got an extra bike, it's a customer's but he won't mind if you borrow it, as long as you don't mind riding a Sportster."

"Well, it's just for a few hours, right?"

Jax laughed, "Yeah, it's not a bad bike just because it cost less than yours, I mean, it's still a Harley, after all."

They walked to the back of the garage and Jax whipped a tarp off a motorcycle mixed in with a bunch of boxes and old parts. Jax said, "XL1200X, a damn good bike, actually, as long as you don't mind occasionally scraping the ground in tight curves."

"Looks good, all black, I like that. Uh, what if the owner objects?"

"He won't, he's dead."

"Really? What, he didn't pay his bill on time?"

Jax laughed. "Shit darlin', if that were the case, how would we get our money? No, he was driving a big rental SUV while we customized his bike. Thing was a monster, an Excursion or something, it was so big he didn't feel the need to pay much attention to other cars around him. So while he was texting us instructions for his bike he drove around a railroad crossing guard – I'm sure it didn't help that he had at least one six-pack of beer under his belt – anyway, he got flattened by a freight train. Wasn't much left of him or his truck after that.

"Sounds like a Darwin Award winner to me."

"Yeah, he was a good customer, too," he sighed, pausing to reflect, finally added, "So, you ready to ride?"

"Always."

Faith got on the Sportster and tried it out. She wiggled around trying to get comfortable, but it just wasn't her bike, the saddle didn't want to conform to her butt very well. Still, it maneuvered nicely and she controlled it easily. "All right Jackson, let's go kick some ass."

Jax laughed, "Damn girl, if we didn't have rules against females in the club I'd invite you myself." Jax didn't notice Faith glaring at him.

Jax, Clay and Faith rode out the main highway towards Lodi. They turned off and followed an old State road until they met up with Chibs, Juice and Opie. From the meet, they drove down a long hill and finally stopped at a lonely intersection, pulling off the road at a convenient abandoned gas station.

"So what's the plan?" asked Faith.

"Well, we know that Zobelle is meeting with his local dealer, Darby, and this drug stuff wouldn't sit well with his white supremacist followers, which he only pretends to be part of, so this whole meeting is secret from his own people as well as the cops, and since the only cops around here are on our payroll, the odds of us being interrupted are low."

"Uhh, sounds okay. How'd you get the goods on him?"

"Half-Sack's been following him, and Juice planted a few bugs, and well, he's an open book to us now."

"Bugs, huh? High tech bike club you got here."

"We try. Hell, we gotta sweep our own club for bugs just to stay under the radar of the Feds. Fuckers keep wanting to put us in prison."

"Yeah, I know how that goes. So, what's next?'

"Ol' Chibs here has a secret weapon," said Clay, "which he will now deploy."

Chibs reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a rough canvas sack that rattled metallically. He removed one item and held it up for everyone to inspect. "Caltrops! Sharp fuckers, too. Four sharp steel points welded in such a way that no matter how it lands, one point always sticks up." He proceeded to scatter them on the road in front of the station.

"Now you all remember where these are, anyone here drives over 'em and fucks up their tires has only themselves to blame!" said Chibs.

"Shit, when we're done, we're gonna hafta clean that shit up," said Faith.

The other looked at her, "Why?"

"Because you're a responsible MC?"

Jax scuffed his shoe on the dirt. "Aw Faith, I don't think so. Besides, the only other people driving on this road are drug dealers and cops. Plus a tourist once in a while."

"Oh, well, that's okay then." Jax wasn't sure if she was being sarcastic or not.

"Here he comes," Juice whispered, "step back, we don't want him to see us until he's just to the caltrops."

A car came along, the driver noticed the motorcycles and stared at them, completely missing the little four-pointed jack sized caltrops scattered on the road. He suffered blowouts on all four tires, but kept going, although at a slower pace than before, the car shaking and rattling and steering arbitrarily.

Clay said, "Well shit, I guess we're gonna have us a low-speed chase." They all followed, no one going very fast, but fast enough to surround the car. Zobelle made a small effort to sideswipe a bike or two, but it was halfhearted at best. Eventually he pulled off the road and stopped. He got out, slamming the door behind, holding an H&K MP5.

"Okay gentlemen, hold it right there, that's close enough," Zobelle said calmly.

"Ya know, there's five weapons pointed at ya," said Chibs, "you might get one of us, two at the most, before we get you."

"Of course," said Faith, "you might have a little trouble since your fire selector switch is on 'Safe'."

"You're bluffing," he replied, "you can't possibly see how the switch is set from that distance."

"Sorry to disappoint, but I can see it just fine. The 'S', painted in white, stands for the German word for safe which happens to start with an S also. You're fucked dude. If you don't believe me, pull the trigger. Although you might live a little longer if you just drop it."

He pointed it at Faith and tried to fire, but five bullets hit him first. Faith walked over and picked up the gun, she pointed it towards the hillside and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. "See," she said to the dead man, "it was safed."

"Come on come on," said Jax with some urgency, "let's get 'im off the road. It's pretty quiet out here, but you never know when some tourist might come along."

They all got busy dragging the body into the woods while Opie drove the car back to the gas station. He broke the lock on the overhead door and got the car inside. Then he sprayed the inside with a fire extinguisher to take care of any fingerprints. Finally, he went out and collected as many of the caltrops as he could find.

Meanwhile, back in the woods, Faith sat on a log and watched the bikers dig. When it looked like they were flagging, she said, "Come on boys, we gotta go deeper than that, we don't want no animals digging him up for a hiker to find. If he can stay buried, _au naturel_ as it were, in six months there won't be a clue for any busybody crime scene types to get a lead on."

She had collected his clothes, keys and wallet and rolled the bundle tight. Except for the wallet, she dug in and found five hundred bucks in twenties. "Do you want to put the money in the club fund? I'd keep it myself, but I don't need it." She handed it to Jax. "We'll wash the clothes and stick 'em in a collection box somewhere, and burn the wallet and stuff. Shit, I just thought of something, we gotta dig the bullets out of the corpse."

"Christ girl, don't this put you off at all?" said Tig.

"Are you shittin' me? That guy ordered his men to rape Gemma just to send a message to his rivals, and the sonsabitches decided to do me just because I was there. Guys who use rape as a weapon don't get no consideration from me. Besides, I've killed before, it don't bother me much. Although I try not to make a habit of it seeing as I don't want to go back inside." The others looked at her oddly, with a kind of respect that wasn't there before.

Faith kneeled by the body and started to dig out the bullets with long-nose pliers from her belt-pack.

When she finished and the hole was deep enough, she and Clay rolled Zobelle in, Faith spit on the dead man, Clay tapped cigar ashes on him, and the rest started shoveling dirt.

* * *

><p>As they walked out of the woods towards their bikes, Faith asked, "So uh, any chance of stopping to eat somewhere?"<p>

"You're hungry after all that?"

"Lord yes, hungry and... Well, I could use a big steak."

"Damn, I never seen a girl so unaffected by violence before."

"I've seen worse, hell, I've done worse. Although I do _try_ to be a sweet girly girl, I'm just not very fuckin' good at it."

They all laughed.

"Yeah, there's a roadside diner we can stop at for lunch that's not too far."

* * *

><p>Special Agent June Stahl of the ATF looked over the latest surveillance photos on her desk. She picked one and walked to the conference room where the rest of her agents were compiling pictures and tapes.<p>

"Have we identified this new girl riding with the SoA, yet? And has anyone picked up Ethan Zobelle again? I don't like the way he shook our tail this morning."

Agent Smith said, "Yeah, we checked his tracker, it's still on his car. He must have taken another vehicle. Leaves it up in the air whether or not he knows about the tracker."

Agent Tyler said, "We identified the girl, she's Faith Lehane and she's got a record. She was incarcerated in California for first degree murder, but she escaped and then, get this, she was given a full pardon! There's a whole section of her file that's missing, it's referenced in the table of contents but, the pages are just not there. Apparently it's classified, at least it says so in the table."

"What the fuck?" asked Stahl, "is she some sort of undercover agent?"

"Beats me," said Smith, "I've sent requests for info to Washington, so far, no response. And this classified stuff is probably so much horse pucky, as we've all seen most of the time it's not anything to do with national security, it's just some bureaucrats way of covering a fuckup. I'll tell you what, if she's undercover, it's the most undercover I've ever seen or heard of. So much so that I don't believe it. I think she's got some sort of heavy-duty pull somewhere though – probably blackmail."

Stahl, speed-reading through the file, said, "We're talking about a high-school drop-out here, I don't really believe she has the smarts to blackmail the Governor of California into giving her a full pardon, she may have some powerful friends though. This file is raising more questions than it answers people, so let's put more resources on Lehane, I want to find out what's going on. Follow her, bug her – do we know where she's staying?"

"So far, the only place we've seen her sleep is in the SoA clubhouse."

"What else do we know about her?" asked Stahl.

"According to DHS she's been out of the country for much of the last eight months. As best we can tell, she's traveled from Alaska to Peru, with stops in Columbia." All the agents frowned at that. "We haven't been able to ascertain what she was doing, but DEA reports at least brief contact with a couple of drug cartels. There was so much shooting going on that they couldn't get close enough to see exactly what was happening, but it's certainly suspicious. She couldn't have been carrying much in the way of contraband on her motorcycle, but it sure doesn't look good."

"Okay, full court press on Lehane, I want to know who she is and I want to know how the hell she got a pardon for murder and escape, I want to know who her friends are, and I want to know what she's up to with the SoA."

"Yes ma'am," said all the agents.

* * *

><p>That night Faith stalked into the clubhouse with Tara and Jax and glared at all the bikers and the women hanging around. She jumped on top of the bar and said, "All right, I've taken care of the first 'H', hunger, and now I want to take care of the second 'H', horniness! So I'm gonna dance, and I'll fuck the first person who's able to keep up with me! Are any of you fuckers game?"<p>

Tara and Jax looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Well this oughtta be entertaining," said Jax.

"Did you notice she said 'person', not guy?"

"Not till you mentioned it. Say, after she's worn herself out with everyone else, how about you...?"

"Up yours, Jackson! You just want to try a threesome!"

"Hey, can't blame me for tryin'."

"Yes I can, but I won't as long as you don't stare at Faith too much."

Jax turned his head guiltily away from looking at Faith who was dancing energetically with Tig and Bobbie both. But when he looked at Tara, he saw she was staring at Faith, so he looked back in time to see Bobbie start to gasp and clutch his hands to his chest. He sat down heavily at the bar and shouted, "BEER! I'm fuckin' dyin' here!" He put his head down to catch his breath, but when one of the girls slammed a tall one down in front of him he looked up, smiled, and chugged most of it.

Meanwhile, Tig was doing his best to keep up, but it was clear he wasn't going to last much longer. Faith was still dancing with wild abandon, shaking and bouncing around with eroticism flowing off her like a waterfall. Juice stepped up, "It's my turn, Tig, sit, you ain't gonna last another minute."

Tig slowed and backed up until he felt a chair behind and collapsed. Another girl slapped a mug in his hand and he drained half of it in one gulp. "I needed that!" he said, gazing at Faith. "How does she do it?"

Juice tried to emulate Faith's movements, but five minutes was about it – he ended up collapsed on a pool table while another girl poured beer down his throat.

"Hiya darlin'," said Chibs, "you been goin' at it for a while now, and my Scot soul, mixed with a little luck of the Irish, stands a good chance of dancin' you to a finish."

"Go ahead, give it a try!" shouted Faith, still in mood to dance the night away.

But two minutes later Chibs tripped and fell heavily. A couple of bikers helped him to his feet and steered him towards the bar.

Opie stepped up. "You gotta be getting' tired now!" said Opie, struggling to keep his belly moving along with Faith. He too succumbed after a few minutes.

Half-Sack was a little hesitant, but Faith waved him over. He lasted longer than any of the others, but Faith was energized and kept on going and going.

Eventually, everyone in the club, including the women – except Jax and Clay who were forbidden from the dance floor by their respective partners – had all tried and failed to keep up with Faith's dance. They were all lying down, sprawled out, some face down on the pool table, others not-so-quietly screwing in the corners, and finally Faith stopped her wild dance. She jumped up on a table and cocked her head. "All right, listen up! Since no one here could keep up with me, I'm gonna spend the rest of the night fucking the person coming in that door right now!"

Everybody looked towards the front door, which opened slowly. Faith put her arms straight out and made come here motions with her fingers while waggling her hips. "Good timing, you won, come on in and collect your reward."

* * *

><p>Gemma said, "Come on Clay, the door's locked, you can show me your inner beast."<p>

"Oh Gemma, you know I'd do anything for you, but suppose someone sees me? I mean seriously, it could destroy my image! No one in Sam Crow would ever look at me again without laughing at me!"

"Clay, we're in our bedroom, in our house, there's no one in the house but us, all the doors are locked, the security system is on, no one is going to see you!"

"Okay, no one can see us, but maybe someone could overhear?"

"No one can hear us; fer chrisake, be a man."

Clay, with a sigh, and an unusually soft smile said, "Okay, I'll read poetry to you tonight."

"While wearing your shaggy wig?"

"Yeah, yeah," Clay said with a long suffering sigh, "but it's your wig, not mine, and don't ever forget it. I just wear it to please you."

Gemma said, "Well, if it's gonna be _that_ much trouble..."

"No, no, I'll do it. Don't you ever tell anyone, but it _is_ kinda fun."

"Your secret is safe with me."

* * *

><p>The next morning Clay and Gemma arrived together in Gemma's Caddy, just as Faith wandered out of the clubhouse with a cup of coffee.<p>

"You look unusually relaxed this morning, Gemma," said Faith, "you guys get it on last night or somethin'?"

"Clay was a real lion, a true beast, last night."

Clay frowned, "Now Gemma, that's between us!"

"Not to worry Clay, I won't reveal any secrets."

Faith said, "Ooooh, secrets? Tell me more."

Clay and Gemma together said, "NO!"

"Alright, alright, I was just kidding anyway."

"Besides," said Clay, "you're looking hella satisfied yourself. It wouldn't have anything to do with whoever the asshole is who dared park a Ducati outside our club, would it?"

"You mean that all-black Ducati Diavel AMG?" Faith pointed at the invading motorcycle.

"Yeah, that's the one, it's not like there's a whole flock of miscellaneous foreign motorcycles parked out here."

"Nice bike, huh?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far, I mean, I guess it's okay for an Eye-talian machine, but it ain't a Harley darlin'," said Clay, that argument trumping all others combined in Clay's mind.

"Yeah," said Faith, "I kind of agree, but my friend felt he needed as much extra as he could get to keep up with me. He still can't keep up with me, but the gap's closer than it used to be. On the other hand, if you're gonna ride sixty thousand miles in eight months, there's nothin' like a Fat Boy, 'cept maybe a Wide-Glide or a Road King and if I was gonna stay on pavement maybe an Electra-Glide. But he didn't ride his machine that far, he trucked the bike and met me here and there and rode with me for a few days or a week at a time. Still, that Ducati really impressed me going over those eighteen-thousand foot passes in South America. The Harley lost more power at high altitude, I damn near had to get off and push a few times, while the Ducati kept more umph. Still, both bikes made it over the top."

"Probably 'cuz the Fat Boy has a carburetor while the Ducati is fuel-injected," said Clay.

"That's probably it, on the other hand I found a local garage in the Altiplano who could do a little work on the Harley, but we failed to find anyone who could fix the Ducati when we managed to smash up the exhaust manifold but good. We had to crate it up and fly it back to New York."

"So how come a slight girl like you likes the Fat Boy so much? I mean seriously, there's other bikes that're lighter and would be easier for you to handle," said Clay, "and for the kind of riding you do the Sportster would be better, still not ideal, but better."

"Oh well, it's kind of embarrassing really."

"Do tell."

"See, back when I was thirteen years old, I saw this movie, _True Lies_, and the girl who played Schwarzenegger's daughter reminded me so much of myself that I sort of identified with her, and besides I never met my own father, so Arnold sort of became a substitute in my mind – you know how dumb kids make up stupid dreams – I was living on the streets in Boston by then so I had plenty of dreams, and nightmares too. And then I saw _Terminator 2_, and it just blew my mind, so anyway, from then on I wanted to own both a Terminator and a Fat Boy, and nothing less would do."

"Yeah, that movie probably sold a lot of Harleys. So isn't Schwarzenegger a little big for you?" asked Clay.

"I got news for you, Clay, girls _like_ big," said Gemma, batting her eyelashes at him.

"Geez, Gem," said Clay. "So Faith, you still gotta a crush on...?"

"Naw, I got over my infatuation with Schwarzenegger," said Faith, "but not the bike. And I've become a martial arts expert so I'm sort of a Terminator myself these days, as close as I can get, anyway. The ironic thing is, it was the Governator himself that signed my pardon and gave me my freedom back. That really weirded me out."

Clay and Gemma eyed her speculatively. They both wanted to ask more questions, but they could see that Faith had sort of drifted off into her thoughts so they left her alone. They strolled across the parking lot, Gemma to the office, Clay and Faith to the garage where they stood over Jax's shoulder and watched him work on Faith's bike. He had it upside down while he struggled with the footboards.

"Shit girl, what the hell did you do to fuck it up like this? It looks like you took your seven hundred pound Fat Boy boulder hopping. The footboards are bent to shit, there's huge deep gouges in the bottom of the frame, your front wheel is both out of round and crooked, the reason your front shocks don't work anymore is cause you can't put such big dents in 'em and expect 'em to still work, and I suspect the frame is actually bent. Look along here, it don't look right to me."

"Yeah, well, not exactly boulder hopping, but we got on some pretty rough roads and trails in Peru. And once I got the footboards bent up I stopped hitting so many rocks while followin' the Ducati. Course I had to customize 'em some with a hammer so I could shift properly but..."

"You do know these are road machines, not dirt bikes, right?"

"Couldn't prove it by me," said Faith, "I drove my sweet honey on trails that would make a mountain goat nervous. And besides, remember in T-2 where the T-800 jumped his Fat Boy into the concrete drainage ditch?"

"Yeeaah," Jax said.

"Well, I did a jump like that on this bike, maybe not quite so high and the ground was softer, but still."

"Faith, that was a trick shot. They supported the bike with cables so it hit softer. In real life you can't do jumps like that with a bike as heavy as yours without causing considerable damage!"

"Well, that must be why it rode a little rough after."

Jax and Clay shook their heads in amazement. Jax looked at Clay and said, " 'A little rough' she says!"

"Mind you, at the time it was either jump off a cliff or get killed, so I think I made the right decision."

"Well, that does sound like a good reason." said Jax.

Clay said, "Hey wait, you didn't drive it damaged like that all the way from Peru, did you? I mean, shit, there's no way!"

"No, no, the jump occurred in Nevada, or maybe I was already in California, I'm not entirely certain – it happened after the incident with the fucking truck tire. See, I happened to ride through the middle of drug buy out in a very empty stretch of public land, and totally by accident several of the principals got killed, mostly by their own side tryin' to kill me. I had ta book outta there in a hurry, and that meant a twenty vertical drop."

"You just _happened_ to ride through the middle of a...? You're a crazy person, Faith," said Jax.

"On the plus side," said Clay, "we're gonna show a nice profit rebuilding your bike. You've got the money to pay for it, right? It's not dirty money, is it?"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry, I didn't grab any of the cash or anything else. I already gave Gemma my credit card number upfront for parts."

"Oh, good, good. We don't want to give the Feds any ammunition, even by accident." Clay looked out the garage doors to the clubhouse. He nodded to the guy coming out the door and said to Faith, "So, that's your guy, the Ducati-ridin' pirate?"

"Yep."

"What would you have done if one of our guys outlasted you on the dance floor?"

Faith smiled, "Didn't happen, did it?" She turned and smiled. "Xander! Come on over and say hello to our hosts!"

**TBC**

* * *

><p>AN:

Shaggy-haired Ron Perlman reading poetry to Gemma is a reference to_ Beauty and the Beast._ For anyone who missed it, Ron Perlman played Vincent, a creature who walked like a man with a beastly visage, but with the gentle heart of a poet.

Ron Perlman is even more famous for playing Hellboy, of course.

Eliza Dushku played Schwarzenegger's daughter in _True Lies_. And Schwarzenegger rather famously rode a 1990 Harley-Davidson Fat Boy FLSTF in _T-2_ (1990 according to the director; 1991 according to the T-800 visual display. Sources around the 'net go back and forth).


	3. Chapter 3

**Charming Faith **

**Chapter Three**

by

LancerFourSeven

aka Lancer47

aka STFarnham

_See Chapter one for Disclaimers._

_A/N: In case anyone missed it, this story is sort of a sequel to _Faith, Hope, and Charity_. Same universe anyway. In that story (spoilers ahead) Faith inherits a substantial fortune from her Aunt Helen. She is accused of murder, but eventually solves the case. She turns her new mansion into a Slayers-East headquarters, but is too restless to stay there year round._

* * *

><p>Xander sauntered over, sipping coffee, idly scratching under his eyepatch, squinting in the early sun. "Mornin'."<p>

Faith wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, her tongue sliding down his throat, pulling back only when several of the bikers started clapping and cheering.

"Clay, Gemma, this is my good friend Xander."

"Hey."

"Hi."

"So, uh, sorry to drive into a Harley club with my Duke, I'll try not to show your bikes up too much."

"Show up...! Why you fucking cyclops! If it ain't a Harley, it ain't shit!"

Xander raised his eyebrows. "Well, you could be right. I know I still can't keep up with Faith on her Harley, even though be all rights I should be able to zoom past her, just goin' on specs I mean. But I guess it's true what they say, that the rider's skill makes a bigger difference than the machine, within reason. Of course, my lack of depth perception makes me more cautious, too."

"Yeah, can see where that might be a problem."

"And worse, when we switch bikes, I _still_ can't keep up with her. I kinda get the feeling she could ride a ten-speed bicycle and I wouldn't be able to keep up with her on either the Harley or the Ducati."

Clay and Gemma laughed, Faith smiled indulgently at Xander.

Xander gazed at Faith's taken-apart Fat Boy. "Damn," he said, "you're really rough on your bike, Faithy."

"Yeah, like you gotta lot a room to talk." She looked across the parking lot at the Ducatti. She turned to Clay and said, "While I was riding up from Mexico on my supposedly broken machine, X-man here had to have his completely refurbished, that's the only reason it looks like it just came off the assembly line, because it did, more or less. And I don't think it suffered near as much damage as mine either, sure as hell not as many miles, but it stopped moving on it's own power somewhere in Central America. I guess it's a good thing you didn't have to follow me down that cliff."

Xander shuddered, "I don't think I would have survived, that damned palisade was more'n a thousand feet down."

"A thousand feet!" said Jax, "I thought you said it was twenty feet. Or is this the same cliff?"

"Same cliff. The top part was maybe seventy, eighty degrees with just a few short vertical sections. It was quite a trip, huge sections with my brakes locked, skidding down in loose dirt on gravity alone, fighting to keep it upright, getting it under control from time-to-time, then it flattened out and I thought I was at the bottom when without any warning there was that one last vertical drop that I hadn't noticed so I tried to do a Wile E. Coyote brakes in the air thing. It didn't work. That was the drop that caused so much damage, the trip down the face didn't cause any problems at all."

Xander said, "I was watching from a campsite below, she was supposed to rendezvous with me and we were talking about breakfast when I started hearing gunshots through my cell phone, watching her ride down that cliff face with those assholes shooting at her from up top took ten years off my life."

"Heh, I figure it _added_ ten years to mine," said Faith, "that's assuming I live another ten years, which might be a little optimistic given my tendency to attract violence."

The three of them soaked in the warming rays of the morning sun. They watched a shiny white fully-equipped Honda Gold Wing drive by the gate, the rider slowed a little and stared but after he saw several grungy bikers staring back at him he sped up, locking his eyes firmly on the street ahead.

Xander said, "Hey, I guess it's just lucky I didn't drive one of those in here, you probably would've shot me on general principles."

"Shee-it," said Clay, "Gold Wing ain't a motorcycle, it's a car that's missing two of it's wheels, and we wouldn't have shot you, but we might not've wanted to spend any time talking to ya." Clay soaked up more rays and then mused, "Mind you, Honda makes reliable cars." Xander and Faith glanced a teach other, amused at Clay's round-about praise.

* * *

><p>Agent Stahl went into the conference room. She said, "Mornin'," to Agent Tyler, leaned over and kissed her while copping a quick feel of her right breast, straightening back up when she heard footsteps from outside the room. She picked up transcripts that Tyler was reading. "These the latest from SoA?"<p>

"Yeah," Tyler said with a smile, "either they're in code, or we should of turned off the recorder for a few minutes."

Stahl grimaced at that, thinking of the stupid rules mandated by court rulings on electronic eavesdropping. She read a few paragraphs. "What the fuck is this?"

"Apparently, it's Clay reading poetry to his wife."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I guess. Smith is researching to see if he can identify the poet."

"You gotta be shittin' me, this is Burns, he didn't recognize that?"

"You _know_ who the poet is? Just from reading a few lines?"

"Yeah, it's called an education, and besides, Burns is pretty much unmistakable..."

"So how come you've never read poetry to me?"

"Since we're both gun-totin' babes, I hadn't thought of it." Tyler smiled. Stahl smiled back and continued, "But we could give it a try." They both paused, lost in thought. "Anyway, that's besides the point, the point is, what the hell is Clay Morrow, a down and dirty motorcycle gang leader, doing reading Burns? It's so out of character, hell, it's gotta be a trick they're playin' on us. I think they've made us, they must've discovered the bugs in the house."

"Shit. That means everything we've got recently has to be reevaluated, they've been playing us for... How long do you think?"

"That's a good question."

Smith came in, he proudly said, "I've identified the author, it's..."

"Robbie Burns, we know," Stahl rapidly flipped through a few more pages, "and some Swinson later on."

He was crestfallen, "Oh."

"The real question being, what the hell is Clay playing at?"

Agents Smith and Tyler looked expectantly at Stahl. She continued, "Get the whole crew into analyzing the feeds for the last thirty days with an eye towards identifying when he must have tumbled to the wire."

"Yes ma'am," said Smith. "Oh, in other news, we've identified this new guy, the one who showed up on the Ducati. He's Alexander Harris, a known associate of Faith Lehane, and a survivor from Sunnydale."

"He must have a pair of big ones to ride an Italian bike into the middle of the Sons of Anarchy's clubhouse and garage."

"He probably does, he travels with Lehane a lot, although not continuously. He's met her a few weeks at a time here and there on her travels through South America, but we don't actually have anything to pin on him. His file seems just as mysterious, though, with large sections that have been classified above our level."

"Hell, we'll just have to dig deeper then."

* * *

><p>Stahl said to her subordinates, "Okay, what can we do to push this investigation forward?"<p>

"Talk to Ms Lehane? Bring her in for an interview, maybe."

"On what grounds?"

"Oh I dunno, maybe something to do with South American drugs?"

"There's absolutely zero on that shit."

"Material witness? That covers a lot of ground."

"Not a bad idea. Let's put together a list of questions to ask her, then I'll get a subpoena."

* * *

><p>A week later, Agent Tyler drove into the club parking lot. She got out of her car, and with a stern expression, walked into the clubhouse.<p>

Clay, sitting at the bar reading the paper, looked up, pushing his glasses up on his forehead. "Are you lost darlin'?"

"No Mr. Morrow, I'm looking for Faith Lehane."

"And just whattaya want with her?"

"Federal business, you stay out of it, just get her here and you can go back to your paper."

"I don't think so, Special Agent Tyler, I think..."

But he was interrupted by Faith and Xander coming out of the hallway. "What can I do for you, Agent Tyler?"

"I have a material warrant for your arrest, will you come quietly?"

"Oh, she never comes quietly," said Clay, "she's a screamer,we can hear her all over the clubhouse."

"Fuck you, Clay!" said Xander, looking a little embarrassed, but Faith just grinned.

"What's the charge?" asked Faith, " 'cuz I sure as hell ain't done nuthin' illegal in years, decades maybe."

"It's a material witness warrant, the United States Attorney feels that you might be persuaded to testify against certain members of the Columbian Cartel if you are properly protected."

"Testify to what? I don't know nuthin' about those assholes, except all but a handful of them are really bad shots. And I got news for ya, no one protects me but me, 'cept for Xander sometimes, but sure as hell not you or your kind."

"Well, that's between you and your conscience, we're not giving you a choice, this warrant means you have to come in and talk, or at least listen while we talk for a little while."

She looked at Xander. "You know who to call."

They drove along the highway, Faith in back, Tyler driving. Faith said, "I don't understand why you thought the cuffs were needed, it's not like I'm any kind of criminal you know."

"It's just standard procedure."

"There ain't nothin' standard about any of this. You know very well I don't have anything on any drug cartel, I don't like 'em, and I don't deal with them except to duck when they start shootin' at me."

"My bosses think you do, so I think you do. Anyway, you'll have a chance to talk to..."

A four-wheel drive one-ton pickup with heavy brush guards on the front came out of a side road at speed, smashing into the engine compartment of the car. They spun around several times before grinding to a halt. Faith could smell gasoline, and figured there was probably sparks somewhere or other. She broke her handcuffs and kicked the door out. She started to run towards the ditch, then looked back and saw that agent Tyler needed help. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the wrecked car. "I'm a just fucking girl scout these days," she grumbled to herself.

She tried the driver's door, but it didn't want to open. She punched out the glass with her elbow, startling Tyler who was staring uncomprehending, blood running down her face. Faith grabbed hold of the door and started yanking, it took her a half-dozen slayer-powered tries to get it open. This thoroughly frightened Tyler, but she was too injured to even get her seatbelt unbuckled, much less get away.

"Don't do it Lehane! You can't get away with killing a Federal Agent."

"What the hell are ya talking about? I'm tryin' ta save yer ass, if I wanted you dead I'd just walk away and leave you here." She hadn't stopped working the door open, unfastening Tyler's seatbelt, and lifting her out of the car. She carried her over to the side of the road and slid down the embankment, eight feet or so. They both lay down, Faith scrambled up far enough to peer over the edge of the road, Tyler painfully crawled up beside her, just in time to see the dripping gasoline catch a spark and engulf the whole car in flames.

Tyler looked horrified. "Uh, I owe you, uh, sorry for uh, well, thanks."

"I don't wantcha to think I go around rescuing strangers and cops 'cuz I'm some kinda good Samaritan or some shit, I just didn't want to have to listen to you screaming to death if you caught fire. It would've put me off my feed for a couple of days, and I really need to eat regular to keep up my strength."

"You're a class act, Lehane, but seriously, I do thank you for getting me out of that." She shuddered as she looked at the fire.

"S'cool. So whattya think, Tyler, those guys over there, struggling to get out of their truck, are they planning on killing you, or me?"

"I thought they were trying to rescue you!"

"From what?"

"From going to prison."

"I don't need no muscle-bound morons to keep me out of prison, I have a fancy New York City law firm on retainer, and I'm sure Xander's called 'em by now, and for what I pay 'em they better already have some California legal beagles on my case, including a big-ass suit against your department. So the why the fuck would Xander arrange something as fucking insane as this?"

"Oh, your file said you were a high-school drop-out..."

"Yeah, well, fuck your file, it ain't up to date. Hey, you got an extra gun on you? I think the dumb-as-fuck twins over there have finally made up their mind to do something about us."

"Sure, in the car; but I only have one on me."

They gazed at the burning Crown Vic. "Well, I hope you carry it loaded."

"Of course, what good is an empty gun?"

"Well why don't you go an' arrest them or something? I'm pretty sure it's illegal to try an' kill people, even Federal Agents."

"Sounds good, are those the only two?"

"I think so, I don't see anyone else around. Better hurry though, it looks like one of 'em is tryin' to find a gun for himself."

Tyler struggled up to the road, finding herself being helped by Faith who easily hauled her up.

"Hey you, stop, you're under arrest!"

"Shoot the fucker! He's gotta rifle!" said Faith.

Tyler shot him, he dropped the gun, the other man put his arms up. Suddenly gunshots started going off around them, everybody dropped to the ground. Agent Tyler and Faith looked around wildly, trying to see whoever was shooting at them.

"Well," said Faith, "good thing they're bad fuckin' shots, whoever they are."

"Oh fuck me sideways," said Tyler, "it's the god-damned ammunition in the trunk of my car!"

"Ah, good. It's ever so much better to die from an _accidental_ gunshot than an _aimed_ one."

"Well, the ammo was mostly stored bullets up, so they're firing straight up and unless a bullet happens to come exactly straight down, we should be all right."

"Yeah, hey, got your phone? You should probably call this in."

* * *

><p>Less than twenty minutes later they were surrounded by cop cars, ambulances and firetrucks. Investigators were poking around in the remains of the burnt car, the damaged truck, and questioning the living perpetrator as well as the Agent and Faith.<p>

Agent Stahl glared at Faith, sitting next to Tyler on a convenient log, both of them gratefully drinking from water bottles.

"Why isn't the prisoner in handcuffs?!" Stahl demanded.

"Cool it, June, Faith saved my life. If it wasn't for her I'd be a crispy critter."

Stahl looked back and forth between the two, her expression unreadable. "Okay, I guess she's not gonna run."

"Hey, I'm sittin' right here! And besides, you didn't need to cuff me in the first place, if I didn't want to cooperate with you I wouldn't be here, and there isn't a damn you coulda done about it, so a little politeness would not be out of line."

Stahl glared, but didn't have anything to add.

* * *

><p>Eventually, the crime scene got sorted out and Faith went with the ATF agents back to the Charming Sheriff's department. They had a three hour interview which was awkward and unproductive, especially when the questions veered off from the ridiculous drug cartel connection and settled on the SoA.<p>

Faith got twitchy and said, "Look, I don't know shit about the Son's business. They ain't exactly gonna welcome me into their club cuz I'm the wrong sex, and they don't discuss their business with their old ladies much less strangers with no other tie to the club except being customers. So you're all just barking up the wrong tree."

"But you must have heard something, Ms Lehane, even just casual comments among themselves. After all, you have ridden with them."

"Nope, I ain't heard nothin'. The rides are just that, rides. We all own motorcycles because we think they're fun to ride, nothing more. Do I need to call my lawyer?"

"What for, do you have something to hide?" asked Stahl.

"Of course not, I just want to make sure you don't railroad me into prison."

"Back into prison."

"Yeah," agreed Faith.

After more fruitless questions, Agent Stahl finally said, "Well this is a waste of time. You can go Ms. Lehane."

"Thanks. You wanna give me a ride back?"

"What the hell, are we a taxi company now?"

Tyler said, "I'll give you..."

But Faith interrupted, "Never mind, I'll call a taxi."

Stahl glared at Tyler as Faith left. "What the hell Ty?"

"As far as I can see it, she's an innocent in all this shit. And I owe her for saving my life, saving me from a horrible death, in fact."

"Did you read the report this morning that showed her net worth? How'd she get that, huh? She didn't save her pennies, that's for damn sure."

"Yeah, I read it. She inherited it, June. That's all. We all should have wealthy relatives."

"Huh. Well anyway, she's hangin' with the Sons of Anarchy, that makes her a shit in my book."

* * *

><p>Faith walked out into the sun and saw Xander's Ducati parked in the shade. Xander was sitting on a bench in front of the local stores, leaned back with a book in his lap but his eyes were closed.<p>

Faith smiled, "Xander! How'd you know where I was?"

He sat up and shook off the groggy feeling from napping in the afternoon. "Your trail was pretty easy to follow, what with cops, ambulances, burning cars and firetrucks all over the damn place. What was that about, anyway?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it was a couple more of Zobelle's crew. If it was, then they were after me."

"Hmmm, do we coordinate with Clay? Or take care of it on our own?"

"Readin' between the lines here at the interview, I kinda think we'd best not get too far into bed with Clay and the SoA. I think they got Feds so far up their asses they're probably constipated."

"Do ya think they know it?"

"Most likely. Look, we'll mention our suspicions to Clay, but let's let the SoA do their thing and we'll do ours. If any of Zobelle's crew comes after us on one of our midnight patrols, I think we could give them a really nasty surprise."

Xander shuddered, "Yeah, you sure you wanta do _that_?"

"Hey, they're the fuckers tried to kill me by settin' me on fire. I don't forgive that kinda thing."

"No, and I don't think you should, either. Still, I don't like getting' into too much of this killin' people shit, and you shouldn't like it either."

"I don't _like_ it, it's just somethin' that needs to be done from time to time to keep the peace."

She sat besides Xander and they both admired the small town vibes. "Hey, you know what?"

"What Faith?"

"I think we should go."

"Uh, your bike ain't ready yet. The rate the Sons are workin' on it, it'll be at least another month, maybe two."

"I'll buy a new bike. I've been wantin' to get a big fuckin' Electra-Glide with all the bells and whistles and a fancy paint job."

"You aren't gonna ride an Electra-Glide off-road now."

"Don't have to, it's pavement all the way from here to Long Island."

"True. And what about the Fat-Boy?"

"They can ship it to me when it's done. And we can pull a little trailer with your Ducati on it."

"What? Why?"

"Because you're gonna want to ride double with me when you see a tricked-out Harley CVO Electra-Glide."

* * *

><p>It was only a week later when when a truck pulled up to the Son's garage. The driver got out, and a man with a suit got out the other side. He said to Jax, "We have a delivery for a Ms. Faith Lehane, she here?"<p>

"Yeah, somewhere. I can sign for it."

"Okay." Jax and the suit turned to watch the driver open the back and lower a ramp. Jax's eye's widened when he saw the bike being unloaded.

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah, fully loaded custom Electra-Glide." The driver, having unhooked the chains, hopped on the back and coasted it down the ramp.

Jax and a couple of other club members clustered around, admiring it.

"What's that, thirty thousand dollars?" asked Half-Sack.

"Originally it was sixty thousand, what with some custom engine work and custom paint and custom pretty much everything. But the original buyer went bankrupt in between the time he ordered it and the time to take delivery. Ms. Lehane was in the right place at the right time and got for only forty-five thousand."

Jax shook his head, "Yeah, cheap, shoulda got two."

Faith and Xander noticed the commotion and came over. "My new bike!" she exclaimed happily.

"Hello," said the suit, "are Ms. Lehane?"

"Yes I am."

"I'm George Cartwright, from the Harley-Davidson CVO division. A bike like deserves a little personal attention and I'm here to give it."

"Wow, thanks."

"No, thank you, besides, I happened to be in town. But, are you sure you can handle it? Before you get on it, it's almost a thousand pounds, with all the extras."

"Yeah, yeah," said Jax, "she can handle. Don't even worry."

"Is it gassed up? I wantta take her for a spin," said Faith.

"All she needs is gas."

They all watched as Faith wheeled it over to the pump and filled it, checked the other fluid levels, and hopped on, started it up, checked all the gauges, and took off. She did some circles in the parking lot and was out the gate a few moments later. As they listened to the engine rumble disappear in the distance, Cartwright wandered into the shop, checking things out. He stopped by Faith's Fat Boy, studying the various bits and pieces.

"What the hell happened to this machine?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, that's Faith's old bike."

"You gotta be kiddin' me! What the hell did she do to it?"

"She drove it from Long Island to as far north as roads could take her in Alaska, then a little further, then she turned around and drove to Tierra-del-Fuego, or as far south as she could get, then drove back here," said Jax.

Clay took up the story, "She took it off-road, _way_ off-road, apparently much further than any of us would have thought it'd go."

Half-Sack added, "And dodged exploding tires and bullets along the way."

"She didn't dodge all of the exploding tire's rim," said Clay, pointing at the bench with the old engine head and the still visible emergency repair.

Cartwright shook his head in wonderment. "Damn. No wonder you were so sure she could handle the Electra-Glide. Would you boys object to the factory taking over the reconstruction of this machine? I think Harley-Davidson could get some nice publicity out of this." Jax and Gemma both started to frown at him. "We'll make sure you're still compensated," he added quickly.

Gemma brightened up. "Make a decent profit without doing any more work?" she said, "We could probably deal."

"Yeah, but I wanted to finish it myself," said Jax, "you know, pride of workmanship, finish what I started, and all that."

"_Well_ compensated," Cartwright said with a sigh.

Jax shrugged. "I guess I can be persuaded."

* * *

><p>An hour later Faith rode back, wearing a big smile. She braked to a stop with a flashy swerve, squealing the back tire. She hopped off, practically jumping with energy. "Fuck! I love this bike! We're gonna go lotsa miles together, I just know it!"<p>

Cartwright beamed. "Excellent! We were just talking about your HD Fat Boy over there, and there, and there and there," he said, pointing to the parts spread all over the garage. "And I was thinking maybe you'd like the Harley factory to rebuild it for you, in exchange for some publicity photos and advertising."

"Hmm, I don't see a problem with that. And Xander has some shots from South America that are pretty awesome – even if they're not totally professional, you should take a look at 'em."

"Certainly."

"And these guys, you're still gonna pay 'em some, right?"

"Yes, we've already discussed that."

"Good."

"You know darlin'," said Clay, "that's not exactly a motorcycle for ridin' with the Sons."

"Hell Clay, I know that. But you ain't never gonna invite me to your table..."

"Yeah, yeah, we're not really up with women's lib."

"I know your type well, Clay, and I don't expect you to change none, so I won't be ridin' with you guys much. In fact, Xander and I need to get back home. I think we'll be leavin' in a few days. Give me enough time to break in this bad boy," she patted her new bike, "and we'll maybe party a little, and leave at sun-up Monday morning. See how far we can get before sun-down."

"We'll be sorry to see you go, but you can bet yer ass we'll party between now and then."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**Charming Faith **

**Chapter Four**

_See Chapter one for Disclaimers._

_A/N:_

_I really mixed up the seasons for this fic. This tale was originally intended to take place in season two, but Agent Tyler doesn't show up in the series until season three. Still, she's pretty easy to add to the previous season – we can say she was there all along but we just didn't see her. And having killed off Zobelle so early changes season two completely, so far warning: I intend to further mix and match scenes and seasons to wild abandon - but this chapter is primarily S2._

* * *

><p>Xander and Faith coasted out of the SoA parking lot around one in the morning, Faith didn't start her Electra-Glide until they were a block away, and even then she kept the RPMs low. But when they got into the center of town, she started to twist the throttle some, and when they drove past what used to be Zobelle's place, and was still occupied by the white-power nut-cases, she really gave it the gas, still in a low gear though. A few blocks later she shifted up and let off the throttle.<p>

"Ya think they heard us, Xan?"

"I think the dead heard us."

"Prolly shouldn't joke 'bout shit like that, not you an' me, anyway."

"Well, I like living on the edge; I mean, I wouldn't be sleeping with you otherwise, right?"

"Sure." They drove out towards the edge of town, where the cemetery was located. Faith laughed as she pulled up into the parking lot at the graveyard.

Xander said, "Isn't this a little obvious?"

"Them Nazi-boys ain't appeared to be too swift so far, don't think that's gonna change tonight."

"That's a point."

They walked casually among the graves, checking for any fresh-dug ones. Xander pointed up ahead. "That one looks new up there."

"Let's walk slower, timing ain't right, yet."

Faith heard a couple of pickups coast into the parking lot behind. She said quietly, "They took the bait, lean in, don't look too alert."

Xander put his arm around Faith's waist. "One oblivious couple, coming right up."

"Perfect," breathed Faith, listening to the night, "three are coming up behind us, two are circling around, trying to get ahead. And there's a vamp coming out of her grave, just to our right."

"So what's the plan?"

"Let's step off the sidewalk and saunter kinda diagonally to the vamp's former grave."

Without warning, one of the men behind yelled, "HEY! WHAT THE FUCK'S THAT?!"

They heard growls, screams and more yelling behind them. Xander said, "We gonna help them?"

"Sure, if it weren't for the pair of gangsters coming out of the woods in front of us, with guns and machetes."

"How can you tell, I can't see shit."

"I can smell Hoppes gun oil, and I can see the fuckin' machetes."

"Okay, them first."

Faith grabbed Xander and dropped to the ground, bullets went over their head. Faith grabbed a handy tennis-ball sized rock, and heaved it into the night. A thunk, a yell, and the sound of someone falling on the ground followed. More shots rang out. Faith, scrabbling around on the ground, said, "Isn't there another fuckin' rock around here? What the hell kind of cemetery is this?"

"Apparently a well maintained one."

"Well shit. Wait, the guy's running towards us."

"He probably can't see us."

"Well, we are behind a large gravestone. Nice thing about granite," she said while patting the stone, "it's pretty good at stopping bullets." Just then a bullet spranged off the side of the stone.

"Can't you do something about that guy?"

"I hate to break it to ya, but he ain't shootin' at _us_. He's tryin' to help his buds back threre, tangling with a fresh raised vamp. They're not havin' much luck."

The night rang out with a scream that sounded like it was from hell. Even Xander could hear the gunman running past him. He could respect the guy a little for running into unknown danger to help his friends.

"All right, none of 'em are paying any attention to us now, I suppose we should at least _try_ and help them, they are humans, kinda."

"Wow, such enthusiasm."

"Hey, let's not forget they want us dead."

"Do you have any idea of why?"

"Probably from when I accidentally said something about pissing on Zobelle's corpse."

"Accidentally, huh. I guess that would do it."

The gunfire and fighting seemed to have died down, so Faith and Xander went to count bodies.

After taking care of a left-over vampire, they found one of Zobelle's crew still alive.

"Hey dude, how'd you survive the vamp attack?"

"I don't know how you arranged this, but I'm gonna track you down girly, whoever the fuck you are, I'll find where you live even if it takes me years, and then, and then by god yer gonna wish you'd _never_ been born by the time I'm through with you!"

"Let me make it easy for you, my name is Faith Lehane, and I live in a big house near Sag Harbor, not far from the Hamptons. You want a map?" She leaned over him, her eyes boring into him. "If you come after me, I fucking guarantee it will be the _last_ thing you _ever_ do. If you don't believe me, you can ask my enemies, oh wait, you can't ask them, they're all dead."

"Big nasty words from such a nice little girl!"

"If I wasn't such a nice girl, I'd kill you! Instead, you can bleed out for all I care. Although your wound isn't all that bad, worse luck for me."

He looked at Faith and smirked. "You're a fuckin' pussy, but that's all right. Now call an ambulance."

"Nah," said Xander, "you won't be needin' it." He pulled out an AMG .45 from an ankle holster, and shot him in the head.

Faith jumped to her feet. "Shit! Why the fuck d'ja do that?"

"Because he needed to die. Maybe it's second nature for you to be constantly watching your back, Faith, but me, I'd rather be able to relax from time to time. I learned that in Africa."

Faith sighed, "Well, maybe you're right. It's not like anyone's gonna miss this fucker."

"You do get a little tenderhearted occasionally, usually at the most inappropriate times."

"Fuck you!"

"Any time!"

"Later, we got a problem now, though. These others, they're dead from an animal attack. At least, not anything to do with us or our friends. But this guy, he's got a bullet in 'em, not so hot from our point of view."

Xander sighed. "Yeah, maybe I fucked up a little." He thought about it for awhile. "Look, the bullet's in his head. Maybe we could decapitate him and then we'd just have one head to get rid of."

"The forensics team would probably notice a sword cut's different from claws. Or whatever imaginary shit they come up with to explain a vampire attack."

"Well, couldn't you like, _rip_ his head off?"

"Jesus Xand! That's gross! He was a human, not some vamp or demon."

"He wasn't _very_ human."

"Yeah, but I can't go around makin' those kinda distinctions, it gets me in trouble."

"You didn't have any trouble getting' these guys killed."

"Then you weren't payin' attention. They came after _us_, in the middle of us doin' our job. They didn't hafta do that. Yeah, I did make us noticeable, but it's not like I spit in their faces, or raped them with baseball bats or somethin'. It was their choice, and they made the wrong one."

"Yeah, okay. It's splitting hairs, but maybe big thick monster hairs instead of little blond ones."

Faith laughed. She pulled her gloves tight, then casually bent down and took a firm hold of the dead man's head. She gave it a yank, stepping smartly sideways to keep any blood spatter off her. Xander held open a canvas sack, Faith rolled the head into it. Xander dropped his gun in the sack with the head, then tied it off.

"Now, all we hafta do is make sure this'll never pop up anywhere embarrassing."

"Any ideas?"

"Umm, how 'bout that big construction site over near Lodi?"

"Sounds good to me. That gun can't be traced, can it?"

"Nope. One of the old Council 'specials', completely neutralized."

"Then we just gotta make sure we don't get stopped by any cops while on the way."

* * *

><p>The next day Faith rolled out her Electra-Glide and prepared for a short cruise to the store.<p>

Clay and Tig strolled up. Clay said, "Now Faith darlin', I'd really like you to do a favor for me."

"What'dya need Clay?"

"Nothing big, just a little cover. See, when you get back to New York, you could lend a little legitimacy to an operation the clubs got goin'. There's gonna be a shipment comin' in from Ireland, only this one's landin' on the East Coast 'sted of the West Coast like usual. So we thought, hey, our friend Faithy, she won't mind bird-doggin' a container for us..."

"Let me stop you right there, Clay. I'm not in the outlaw business. I'm straight – well, mostly straight. I'll pass a message along for ya, maybe even bankroll something I think s'cool, but no outright criminal shit for me. Not anymore. Not unless I'm defending myself against nasties tryin' to fuck me over."

"I see. I can respect that. Okay, see ya at the party."

Faith swung her leg over her Electra-Glide and took off with a friendly wave.

They watched her ride away. Tig said, "Seriously, Clay? You gonna let her thumb her nose at us like that? I mean, shit, that girl's 'bout as straight as a fuckin' corkscrew."

"I got a little somethin' that may change her mind."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I got her DNA mixed in with a dead body out in the woods."

"Shit, Clay! You're gonna try'n 'Oswald' Faith?"

"Hey, it's a proven technique."

"You know that'll fuckin' piss her off somethin' royal. And knowing her, it'll be the dangerous kinda pissed-off. And she's got bigger balls than Elliot Oswald, huge muthas." He held his hands apart about a foot to demonstrate the size of Faith's 'balls'.

"Yeah, that's why I won't drop the hammer 'til there's about three thousand miles between us."

"Oh, I can't wait for her reaction."

"She'll get the guns here, she'll get her cut, then she'll be fine."

"She's already got loads of money, Clay, why would any more calm her down?"

"Shit, you know these millionaires, they don't never have enough money!"

"True that. Okay, I'll get the message across the ocean. Our Irish brothers will be happy to get a shipment in the country while the DEA, ATF, and FBI have our fuckin' ports closed down," said Tig.

Clay answered, "Where there's a will, there's a way. They got so many agents covering our ports here, they must be neglectin' the other side of the country."

"Probably shouldn't mention this tactic to Jax."

"Or his mother," Clay said with a shudder.

"Yeah, we don't do this just right you'll be in the doghouse with yer old lady."

"The two of us, Tig. It'll take us years to work our asses off her shit list."

"Then we better make damn sure she don't find out."

They popped a couple of beers and clanked them together.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

A/N:

For those who missed it, Season 1, Episode 3, 'Fun Town', featured a story line concerning a local businessman named Elliot Oswald. [WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD!]

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After his thirteen year old daughter is raped, Elliot asks Clay to find the perpetrator so Elliot can take care of business.

SoA succeeds, Elliot shows up out in the woods where the rapist is being held by the gang. Elliot planned to castrate the man, but at the last moment wimps out and drops his knife. After he drives away, Clay (wearing rubber gloves) picks up the knife and finishes the job. He packs the bloody knife, complete with Elliot's fingerprints, into a plastic bag.

Now Clay has blackmail material on one of Charming's most powerful citizens, and he isn't afraid to use it.


End file.
